Tell me, what would you do?
by KeepCalmFanFicExists
Summary: With their relationship in ruins, Bellatrix and Voldemort try to figure out the next step, each in their own way, the night Dumbledore is supposed to die. Will they ever get anything back of what they had, or would they have to sacrifice the world for that? -a two-shot.


_This will be a two-shot that takes place just before and during the Battle of the Astronomy Tower. It is written for my dear friend, Azzie (Inkfire), who had her birthday yesterday. And a thank-you to Ella for an idea :)_

_Happy Birthday, Azzie! Hope it's angsty enough. ;) *passes cake with Dark Mark-shaped candles*_

Frosty, awkward silence was filling the library of the Black Castle. Lord Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange were sitting on opposing armchairs in front of the fireplace, each of them pretending to be reading a book. It was the night of the week they usually played chess, but the chess set was packed up and hidden in its drawer; it had 'slipped' their mind, both of them.

Every few seconds Bellatrix would forget about her book and send her master small glances, in hopes that he would put his own book down and finally let her speak her mind. She had phrased her opinion in a million ways already, she had no idea what more she could do to make him listen to her, but that didn't mean she would stop trying. Voldemort, on the other hand, was completely devoted to what he was reading, the fiery eyes scanning line after line compulsively. He wasn't even drinking his tea, because then he would have to look at the coffee table and what if his stare found Bella's? He had decided he wouldn't be talking to her, and that was that.

As time passed and the sunlight was leaving the room, Bellatrix abandoned any attempts to read her book and was just switching her focus between Voldemort and the change in colours of the sky, as it was painted yellow and orange and then magenta and purple. Her eyes became more pleading by the minute, as did the urge to just yell at him and throw his damn book in the fire. It couldn't be his arrogance and stubbornness that sent him to his doom, no.

And the moment she had made up her mind about standing up and shaking him and telling him loudly all about Snape being a slippery little traitor, an eagle-owl came in from the open window and landed on Voldemort's arm. The large bird, as if it could understand how important the man it was serving was, bowed its head low and offered him its leg gladly, standing completely still while the long, white fingers disentangled the knot and freed a short letter. Bellatrix instantly stood up and tilted her head when a triumphant shadow covered her master's face.

"What is it?" she whispered, petting the owl's feathery horns.

Voldemort did not as much as cast her a look, just took a quill out of his robes, wrote a line on the other side of the parchment and made a precise bow around the owl's leg.

"Master?" Bellatrix said, hesitantly. "Is it good news?"

"Who else is in the house?"

"Nobody, my lord, just us. My sister will be visiting later, but-" Bella started.

"Give me your arm."

Bellatrix offered him her left arm, where the Dark Mark had burnt her flesh in an elaborate manner. He pushed it like a button multiple times, each of them signaling a specific Death Eater to take their position as they had been instructed when her nephew had explained his plan with the Vanishing Cabinet. The boy, not as useless as she believed, had managed to fix the thing and Dumbledore was temporary out of the school!

Bellatrix counted in her mind: Yaxley, Gibbon, the Carrows, Rowle, _Snape_ and a few more, even a footnote to take Greyback with them. She waited for her name to be mentioned in that bizarre telepathic communication her lord had invented, but he didn't say anything about her. When he was done, he let her hand fall unceremoniously, and, without looking at her, he said: "leave the room".

Bellatrix' jaw dropped and she struggled for breath. She opened her mouth to speak, but he was already walking away, back to his armchair. Bella swallowed and, suppressing a sob, left the library.

Lord Voldemort waited until the sound of her heels came from far away, and then sighed heavily. Bellatrix had always had an uncanny knack for messing things up in his well-organized mind, and her latest accomplishments were setting a new record. She was failing him, she had been failing him from the moment she had preferred prison than to lie her way out and look for him again. How many troubles would he have been saved from if she had put her pride aside and succumbed, just this once, to lying? For the both of them it would have been better. He would have been ruler of magical Europe, most likely of the whole world too, by now, and Bella would have been standing there, next to him, her balance and intelligence intact.

Voldemort has always been a very practical man, the exact opposite of sentimental, and yet he couldn't but feel bitter when he thought about how much they could have been. And it infuriated him; he had handpicked her as a child to be his protégé and only student from the dozens and dozens that would have sold their souls to have him mentor them. Bella had been amazing back then, the more he pushed her, the better she performed. And now... now she couldn't focus on anything for more than a few minutes, her train of thoughts would get derailed and the fact that she was almost conscious of it made matters even worse; panic attacks were just sad to observe and left her ashamed and tired.

And what if she was still the incredible dueller she had proven herself to be early on, if she couldn't evaluate situations? How could she be his lieutenant, his second-in-command, if she couldn't control herself? The battle of the Department of Mysteries had proven that she was incapable of that.

In an irrational way, he blamed solely Bella for what had happened there. Not Malfoy, not Dumbledore or the boy. Just her. And himself. Himself for saving her, for bringing her back to her house, while everyone else had been captured. After that, they had been free of her husband and the social norm for the first time, and yet he had been keeping her in a safe distance, so he wouldn't snap her neck just to satisfy that insane desire inside him. All these years, vague plans of Lestrange disappearing and him and Bella becoming something more... official had been a part of his morning dreams, but he couldn't do that right now, not when having Bella around would probably be a reason to be embarrassed, rather than proud. Actually, he doubted she would be able to understand her position, if that happened.

And this maddening anger took over him again, wiping everything else from his mind. He just wanted to hurt her, torture her so much for every new and incomprehensible emotion she forced him to go through, that sometimes seeing her was too much. The tragic thing was, that he had tried to punish her the way he punished his followers, but Bella had been completely impassive when he had implied, for psychological torture, that he would kill her eventually. On the contrary, she had seemed almost... relieved. Because if there was something that Bella could never experience, was fear of him. He couldn't understand it, it was completely baffling and opposing to everything he knew about human nature, but the woman just felt safe around him even when he had her hanging from the ceiling, whispering in her ear that he would kill her slowly and painfully.

And there was the other thing, the most annoying and, dare he say, disturbing of all. He had attempted to fulfill his promise and hurt her, only his spells had come out much much weaker than normal. They had resembled a Hufflepuff's takes on Dark Magic, not a merciless Dark Lord's. This had been something of a wake-up call, an irrefutable sign that Bella was, indeed, special to him. The only thing that was letting him sleep at night was that they had been alone that night and no one had seen his failure. He wasn't sure about Bella herself, but he had used it anyway to search deep inside him; failure was something he did not accept, not from himself, not from anyone. And so, he had realised: he didn't _wish_ to hurt her. She had suffered enough, how much more could she go through without breaking totally and irreparably? What would he do then, after the only person he had ever cared for in his own way was gone? This question left him with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and he still hadn't managed to fight away the nausea to think of an answer.

After the initial shock of the realisation had passed, which had taken a considerable amount of time, he had adopted a new attitude towards her: that of lenience and space. Because he had been hoping she would slowly start feeling better and more secure, and that would result into a general recovery of her previous personality and that would be the end of both of their troubles with each other. Only Bellatrix hadn't reacted like that at all. Taking advantage of his lenience, she followed him around day and night, whispering about Snape's loyalties even when they were in bed. At first he had attempted rational conversation with her about that matter, but when she didn't listen, he had just preferred shutting her away, like now. In the light of this new treatment, Bella had started experiencing intense mood swings and was exhibiting a behaviour that could be described only as childish. If young Bella hadn't cried in her father's funeral, and his curt remarks on her spellwork made her work even harder, now she often resolved into sobs in private. He knew, he had ordered Nagini to keep an eye on her.

When she had such break-downs, his first instinct, was, oddly, to comfort her nowadays. But he never did. How could he? If anyone noticed that he had- well, a soft spot for the girl, it would be considered a sign of weakness and a great reason to be abandoned by his Death Eaters. And so he let her in her misery, while he knew that, without his support, she would never be the same again. And so he punished her in the only way he could make himself do it, by humiliating her and not giving her the lead in the mission. By depriving her from his company, an act that would surely drive her crazy.

And yet, he understood that, in this way, he was only killing her softly, more slowly than he could ever achieve in any other way. He preferred it this way, it was better having her around him broken, than not at all, but he was also beginning to find her presence, or absence, preoccupying his mind more that it should, especially when he should be planning a coup.

His gaze searched for the grandfather clock standing at the wall. Bella should be feeling a bit better by now, perhaps he could... pay her a visit. She had said it herself, they were alone in the castle, there was no one to think... ill of him. He was climbing the stairs leading to Bella's rooms before he knew it. With soft, soundless footsteps he approached the doors of her bedroom, and just before he knocked, he was able to hear the sob coming from inside. Voldemort stopped dead on the spot and cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself, disappearing even from his own eyes.

Now he came to listen better, he could hear clearly that the personal crying was indeed a woman, but not Bella. Bella always cried silently, from what Nagini told him, and would have fits of rage in the in between, her magic flaring up and destroying anything close to her. No, the girlish sobs should be Narcissa's.

And indeed, as he leaned forward, he could see through the wall the two sisters, both sitting on the floor of Bella's bedroom, that seemed to have suffered many strikes of its mistress' desperation. The canopy of the bed they shared most nights had collapsed on the mattress and the vast, silver mirror was broken and pieces of glass surrounded Bellatrix, who was curled up in the corner, her knees close to her chest and was observing her crying sister dully.

Voldemort could easily make the infuriating guess that Narcissa had come to Bellatrix for support and, even when he had seen her in a state, had preferred to talk about her own problems, not Bella's. True to that, Narcissa was now speaking between sobs.

"He is going to die, Bella, he- he is going to die tonight, and I'll be miles and miles away from my baby. And it has been the Dark Lord's plan all along, Bella, do you understand me?"

Bellatrix' face remained relatively calm, or better, the emotion she was showing had nothing to do with her sister's words.

"Stop staring at the distance," Narcissa yelled, "don't you see? My son, my only child, is going to _die_! And you just sit there and cry because you-you don't play chess with the Dark Lord anymore?"

Bellatrix looked at her with the same dead eyes as before.

"You know I don't share your fondness of children, Cissy. But you are being very unfair. Your son is the most important person in your life and you are worried he will be hurt. Do you know when I realised I have no interest in kids? When I figured I could never love my child more that the Dark Lord himself, even if the child was his. _He_ is the most important person in my life, Cissy, and I am _sure_ he is going to die if he doesn't listen to me. And, in contrast to you, there are things I can do to prevent that. You can live a life without Draco, but I cannot breath freely when the Dark Lord is not in the room! So, excuse me as I go talk to him, because the moment Snape kills Dumbledore, we are all as good as dead. I suggest you stay here and start the arrangements for all our funerals."

Bellatrix got up to her feet, shrugged off broken glass from her robes and walked towards the exit, only to jump back when she saw the Dark Lord watching her from the door.

"Master!"

"Bella," he returned, his voice casual and pleasant, "from what I understand you are looking for an escort for your trip to Hogwarts? Me, in particular?"

"My-My lord, I-" Bellatrix stammered, completely forgetting about her sister.

"I thought we were on a tight schedule?" Voldemort offered her his arm, as if he was asking her to dance.

"Absolutely, my lord," Bella answered and took his arm, and they Apparated to Hogwarts together.

_A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think._


End file.
